


Through Woodland and Wasteland

by Galenfea



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27120422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galenfea/pseuds/Galenfea
Summary: A rewritten version of Tauriel's subplot in Desolation of Smaug
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Dwarves and Spiders

**Chapter One: Dwarves and Spiders**  


Tauriel was moving almost on all fours through the treetops, focusing on the nest of spiders that she knew lay just ahead. The skilled rangers in the trees to either side of her knew their business and she could trust that nobody would disturb even a single strand of a web. Everything was silent as she stepped from one branch to the next, putting a hand to her hood to keep it pulled close to her head.

The noise was so sudden she physically startled: shouting and swearing and the hissing and clicking of the spiders, coming from the nest up ahead. She just caught herself on a branch, her other hand reaching automatically for her bow. No more point in silence now and she whistled loudly, springing forward. First aim: kill the spiders. Second aim: discover who they had been attacking.

The fight was on the ground and Tauriel whistled again, catching the eye of one of her lieutenants and gesturing downwards. He waved in acknowledgement and dropped to a lower branch, followed by three others. Tauriel looked away, gesturing to another elf to circle to the other side of the nest. Once she had gone with another three rangers, Tauriel started down herself. She judged she was roughly above the fight and dropped down a branch, steadying herself with one hand and cursing the darkness. She couldn’t see the ground, but the sound of combat was still clear and she kept going, dropping and scrambling from branch to branch until at last she could make out the movements of the spiders; they had become all too familiar.

Her bow was already strung and she nocked an arrow as she balanced on a final branch. The spiders were distracted by whatever they were attacking: she could make out humanoid figures. They weren’t elves or men, of that she was sure, but that didn’t matter.

She drew her bowstring back to her eye, took careful aim between the branches and through the darkness, and loosed. The first spider fell with a shriek.

That acted as a signal to the rest of her patrol and she heard them moving in as she and the other elves with her in the trees continued to shoot. She’d had six arrows to hand, and when they were spent - some missed, sadly - she didn’t bother to fetch more from her quiver but simply leaped downwards, from one branch to the next, until she landed on the ground. Then she dropped her bow and snatched out her daggers, dashing forward to dive and slide beneath a spider’s legs. She stabbed up at it and rolled to her feet to finish it with a stab through the eyes, then whirled round to check where the others were and on the people they had rescued.

She had time to register that they were dwarves before another spider started lowering itself down above her, its mandibles clicking. She nodded to an archer still in the branches of a tree and dived out of the way as he loosed a single arrow, cutting the thread. The spider dropped heavily to the ground in front of her and she drove her knives into its head before it could recover from the fall.

“Last!” shouted a scout from the treetops.

“Last!” a second echoed in confirmation.

Tauriel sighed in relief, but gestured towards the dwarves, who were apparently still recovering from the battle. At once, her patrol surrounded them, arrows to the string.

One dwarf folded his arms, looking Tauriel in the eye. “Is this the welcome King Thranduil” - he spat the name - “shows travellers in his lands?”

Tauriel pulled down the mask that covered the lower half of her face to speak to him properly. “This is the welcome we show trespassers. Who are you and what is your purpose here?”

He raised his head as if to look down his nose at her.

“Very well.” She turned to one of her lieutenants. “Search them.”

One of the scouts handed her her dropped bow and she nodded thanks, then nocked an arrow to the string and watched as the majority of the patrol set down their own weapons to step into the ring of archers that remained. One elf began taking knives from the young dwarf standing at the leader’s right hand while a second reached for the leader’s sword.

She was distracted for a moment as a voice called, “Captain?” and the scout held up what looked like a locket, containing images of a dwarf and what she assumed was a dwarvish child.

“Give that back, it’s private!” protested the dwarf from whom it had been confiscated.

“Who are they?” asked Tauriel, her attention caught; she’d not really imagined dwarves carrying family keepsakes about.

“My wife and my wee lad,” snapped the dwarf.

Tauriel nodded. “Return it.” Then she looked back at the leader as the elf who had been searching him came over, carrying his sword. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the youngest dwarf was still handing over knives that had been concealed about his person.

Then she was handed the leader’s sword and her eyes widened as she looked at it, try thought she might not to make her shock too obvious.

“This is a blade of the High Elves,” she said softly. She frowned as she looked at the dwarvish leader. “Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift to me.”

Her frown deepened to a scowl. “Not just a thief, but a liar as well.”

A look of momentary outrage crossed his face, but before he could reply there was a crash from somewhere in the bushes. Instantly, the elves were back on alert, drawing knives and nocking arrows to bowstrings.

In the same instant as Tauriel was gesturing to three elves to go and investigate, there was another crash and a yell. The dwarvish leader gasped and the youngest dwarf screamed “Kili!” suddenly twisting round and breaking into a run towards the noise.

“Halt!” yelled Tauriel. “Halt or our arrows fly!”

The leader also turned, his voice ringing high with a sudden note of fear. “Fili! Stop!”

***

Fili ignored both the elf’s warning and his uncle’s command. He’d recognised Kili’s voice even without the knowledge that he was nowhere to be seen among the Company, and he had no intention of leaving his little brother in danger.

He ducked as an elf attempted to grab him, winced as an arrow skimmed past, just catching a fold of his sleeve, but finally burst into another small clearing where Kili stood, sword in hand, facing another spider.

“Kili!” he said again, to let his brother know that the feet rushing up behind him were friendly. Then he snatched out one of his few remaining knives and threw it at the spider’s head.

He’d not had much hope of killing it, and indeed the knife glanced off, but he made it recoil long enough to reach his brother’s side. He skidded to a halt and drew another dagger.

“Thank you,” said Kili breathlessly.

“Thank me if we get out of this.”

There was no time for further discussion; the spider charged at them and they darted to the sides to flank it. Fili drove his knife into a gap in its carapace while Kili chopped fruitlessly at its head, but Fili’s little knife was too short to do any fatal damage.

“Kili, stab it!” he snapped.

Then he heard the whir of an arrow and instinctively ducked. A second spider fell to the ground, legs thrashing, and three elves dashed into the clearing. At the same moment, Kili drove his sword into the same gap and the spider shrieked, purposeful movement turning to twitching as it died.

Fili and Kili turned as one to face the elves, who had already nocked second arrows. Fili couldn’t read their expressions; only their eyes were visible above their masks.

“Drop your weapons,” said one.

Fili looked ruefully at the dagger, but dropped it. He still had one more in his jacket and it was more than worth the loss to save Kili. Kili sighed heavily and threw down his own sword.

The elves grabbed them - one also snatching away Kili’s bow - and hustled them back to join the others.

“What were you thinking, wandering off alone like that?” hissed Fili as they went.

Kili shrugged awkwardly. “I hoped if I stayed out of sight I’d be able to do something to help.”

At that moment they arrived back in the clearing where the rest of the Company was being held. The elven leader looked up, but as she looked from Fili to Kili, her gaze softened.

“I understand,” she said. “But be warned: if either - or any - of you should make a second attempt to flee, we will shoot you in your tracks.” She looked around at her warriors. “Bind them and bring them to the palace.”


	2. The King's Command

Bilbo flattened himself against the wall as an elf walked by, trying desperately not to gasp for breath. The paths down in the dungeons were narrow and he was terrified that at any moment one of the guards would bump into him and he would be found.

He probably shouldn’t have come into this dangerous place, but what choice was there? He’d just managed to slip into the palace on the heels of the captain - anything was better than being left out there alone - and he’d followed them down here; the place was a maze of passages and if he didn’t find out where the dwarves were to be imprisoned now he never would.

“This is not the end of it!” roared Dwalin, hammering on the door of his cell with his fist. “Do you hear me?”

A couple of elves started to laugh, though they quickly stifled it as they walked away.

“Let us out of here!” yelled another dwarf: Dori, Bilbo thought.

A couple of the elves stepped aside to talk and Bilbo edged closer, hoping to make out what they were saying. His elvish was nowhere near fluent, but perhaps he would be able to pick out a little.

“Captain… Tauriel. Forest-daughter?” He listened a little longer, then sighed. “Oh, that’s her name.” He took another step and froze, his heart hammering, as Tauriel looked directly at him for a moment. Then she resumed her conversation. He made out something about questions, and the king, then she patted Orcrist, which she was still carrying. The elven man - Elros - nodded and responded, gesturing towards the dwarves. Tauriel smiled, inclined her head a little to Elros and walked away, pulling back her hood as she went to reveal long silver hair twisted back in a single braid.

Bilbo hesitated a moment, but now that he knew where the dwarves were he supposed it would be a good idea to see more of the palace to get an idea of where they were in relation to everything else. He wiped his brow and trotted as silently as he could after Tauriel.

***

As she walked up to Thranduil’s throne room, Tauriel did her best to straighten out her braid and brush her tunic into some sort of order. It didn’t feel right to be going straight to an audience with the king while still splattered with spider blood and with mud on her boots, but this was urgent. Trespassing dwarves was yet another danger among the many that now plagued them, and Thranduil needed to know.

As she approached, she was a little surprised to hear voices and realise that Thranduil was already in conference with somebody, but then she smiled as she recognised her friend Prince Legolas. She paused in the doorway to the throne room, waiting until father and son had finished their conversation. More than ever, she was loath to interrupt; it was rare to see her king smile as he did when he looked at his son.

Thranduil noticed her almost immediately, though, and stepped back to beckon her in. Legolas also turned and smiled a greeting as she walked over.

“My Lord.” She knelt quickly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I bring news.”

“Rise, Tauriel,” said Thranduil, going back to his throne. “What news?”

Tauriel got up and went to stand beside Legolas. “I have just returned from a patrol towards the Road.”

Thranduil nodded. “I had heard that those parts of the forest were still infested with spiders. Did you not clear them when I ordered it, some weeks ago?”

Tauriel sighed. “We cleared the forest as ordered, My Lord, but more spiders are ever coming from the south. We were lucky today and had no casualties, but they are growing bolder. I’m sure they will return within days and before long we will be unable to even drive them back.”

Thranduil glanced at Legolas, but then looked back at Tauriel as she continued, “I have not travelled south of the Road since the infestation began, but there must be some great colony, perhaps in the old fortress at Dol Guldur. If we could find it…”

“I have given thought to that” - again Thranduil looked at Legolas - “but we will discuss it in a moment. What urgent news did you bring?”

“We came upon a group of dwarves that were wandering in the forest.”

Thranduil’s eyes widened and he repeated, “Dwarves?”

“Yes, My Lord. A party of thirteen. They refused to tell me anything of themselves or their purpose in your realm, but their leader carried this.” She held out the High Elven sword. “He said it was given to him as a gift.”

Legolas snorted softly and reached for it as Thranduil rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“It is a blade of the Noldor, Father,” said Legolas, looking up at Thranduil. “How can a mere dwarf have come upon such a thing?”

Thranduil shook his head. “I cannot say. When we have finished here, Tauriel, send word to Elros and Feren that I would speak with this dwarvish leader.”

Tauriel nodded. “Yes, My Lord.”

“Perhaps we may discover his purpose.” Thranduil sighed, still frowning, but then shook his head a little and said, “Legolas, this is something Tauriel should hear as well - tell her of your journey south.”

Tauriel blinked in surprise, turning to Legolas, who looked grim.

“I did not take a long journey, but it appears you may be correct in looking to Dol Guldur. There are signs that the spiders do indeed come from that direction, but there is still more worrying news.”

“More worrying than the spiders?”

“Yes: we found significant signs of orcs. They have been threatening the Woodsmen and they also appear to be moving towards Dol Guldur. What’s more, the scouts I sent to speak to the Woodsmen spoke of a group that travelled north not long ago, moving at great speed as though they were hunting.”

Tauriel’s heart had been sinking as he spoke and she shook her head sorrowfully at the thought of the brave Woodsmen and their wives and children. “Did they attack the settlements they passed?”

“No, which leads me to believe they had some purpose in Northern Mirkwood.”

Tauriel nodded. “My Lord,” she said, turning to Thranduil, “Surely there is reason -”

Thranduil was already shaking his head. “I know what you will say, Tauriel, but winter is at hand and we must look to our own borders.”

“If we could but find out what lies in Dol Guldur - I could lead a small patrol tomorrow and bring back information.”

“No. For now, your task is to keep our lands clear of these foul beasts. When spring comes, we may look abroad again. Those are my orders, Tauriel.”

Tauriel sighed, hanging her head, but murmured, “Yes, My Lord.”

“Nonetheless, this matter of the orcs concerns me deeply, especially given the presence of these dwarves. None have ever accused the dwarves of allying with orcs, but that these enemies of ours should come at the same time…” He shook his head a little. “I will speak to their leader and see if I can learn anything from him. In the meantime, both of you go about your duties. Do not leave the forest or go south of the Road, but if you encounter orcs within our borders, do all you can to discover their purposes.”

Tauriel sensed that she, at least, was being dismissed, and bowed. “As you will, My Lord,” she said. “May I go?”

“Yes, go and rest. I will see you at the feast tonight.”


	3. The Feast of Starlight

Most of the elves of Mirkwood had begun their celebrations as soon as the first stars began to appear in the sky outside. Tauriel had visited a few of her friends, but soon the King’s feast would begin and she was expected there. Her fine clothes felt strange as she walked through the corridors towards the great hall, but she had to admit she enjoyed the texture of the softer cloth and the feeling of her hair flowing loose down her back.

Still, she knew she was early and turned on her heel to go down towards the dungeons, quickly pulling her hair into a loose braid as she went. She would borrow something to wear over her fine dress and just check on the dwarves to ensure all was well. Though she trusted Elros to do his job, she liked to see for herself and in any case, it might give her a report to take to the king.

Elros was surprised to see her, but lent her a plain leather breastplate that fitted well enough. She would just walk around the dungeons and then return.

As she passed each door, the dwarves glanced at her and then away, not even responding to her slight nods of greeting. She reflected that she probably would have acted in much the same way were their positions reversed, though judging by a couple of the glares she got, she wondered if they would have killed her out of hand rather than taking her prisoner.

Last of all was the youngest dwarf: the dark-haired one who had been separated from his party. Kili, she remembered they had called him. To her surprise, he was playing with a small pebble, tossing and catching it. Surely that hadn’t come from inside the cell, and she paused, trying to recall the names of the warriors who should have found it when they searched him.

He looked round at her and she asked, “That stone in your hand: what is it?”

He blinked and looked down at it, turning it over in his fingers. “It’s a talisman.” He shook his head a little. “If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone… he will be forever cursed!” Suddenly, he raised the stone, thrusting it towards the bars, towards her. She instinctively took a step back, raising one hand to catch the stone if he threw it, the other hand straying to the dagger she wore even to festivals.

But then, to her surprise, he laughed. “Or not, depending on whether you believe in that sort of thing.” He lowered it and looked at it again. “It’s just a token.” After a moment, he sighed and said, “My mother gave it to me.”

“Why?” she asked. First the locket with the images of the dwarf’s wife and child, now this; obvious though she knew it should have been, it still felt strange to imagine that a dwarf had a family just as any elf would.

“So I’d remember my promise to come back to her.” He sighed and when he looked up again his smile was forced. “She worries. She thinks I’m reckless.”

“And are you?”

He laughed, tossing the stone to catch it again. “Nah.”

But as the stone fell into his hand, it slipped between his fingers to land on the floor and bounce between the bars. He let out a sharp cry, diving after it, and fell still as Tauriel trapped it under her foot just before it fell over the edge of the path. She crouched to pick it up, still keeping half an eye on him, but he made no move to threaten her; his eyes stayed locked on the stone. Evidently he cared about it more than he wanted to admit.

“Take care of it,” she said, passing it back. “Such promises are precious.”

He nodded, quickly slipping it into an inside pocket of his shirt, presumably where he’d been carrying it throughout his journey.

She inclined her head to him and walked on, her thoughts already turning to the feast; she could hear music and voices raised in song and laughter even as she walked.

But behind her there was another raised voice: Fili saying just loud enough to be heard between the cells, “Kili, why did you do that? Mother’s no business of an elf’s!”

***

“Hush!” hissed Ori and Fili followed his pointing finger towards the elf’s retreating back. He bit his lip; of course, elves had sharp ears and she probably wasn’t quite out of hearing. He waited until she was around the corner and out of sight before he looked back at Kili, who was sitting in the far corner of his cell, his arms folded defensively.

Before Fili could speak again, Thorin’s voice echoed down the corridor from his cell. “He’s right. There’s to be no more talking to any elf; that includes you, Kili.” The last words were bitten off and Fili heard the sound of his uncle’s boots hitting the stone as he tried to pace back and forth in his cell.

Kili muttered, “What difference does it make?”

“It’s none of her business,” said Fili firmly.

“What harm would it do?” Kili was almost snapping.

“There’s nothing we can do now,” said Balin.

There was a short pause, then Ori said, “I’ve been thinking. It must be about halfway through autumn by now. I believe elves have a festival only a week out from… from Durin’s Day.”

This time, as silence fell between them, they were all very aware of the sound of singing from somewhere up above.

***

The Feast of Starlight went on all night. Once, the elves of the Greenwood had celebrated out in the forest, watching the stars rise and pass across the sky until the sun raised her head. Now, with the forest twisted and corrupted, overrun with spiders, they had been forced to retreat into the caves. But they did their best. The king’s great hall was decorated with lanterns hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the tracery of the ceiling and the carvings on the walls, reminiscent of tree trunks and branches. It would never replace the forest for Tauriel or those around her, but until they could return, it was at least a reminder. She looked up at the lanterns overhead from where she sat at the high table and sighed, listening to the songs of her people rising and echoing around her. When she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was indeed out under the stars.

She was shaken out of her reverie by the sound of running feet. She opened her eyes, her hand creeping to her dagger, but saw the elf in a guard’s uniform running up towards the high table.

“My Lord!” he panted, coming to a halt before Thranduil’s throne and sketching a quick bow. “The dwarves - they’ve escaped!”

“What?” demanded Thranduil. “How?”

“Their cells are empty…”

Tauriel sprang up. “Who is the keeper of the keys?” she snapped. Even as she spoke, she glanced at Thranduil. He gestured to her in dismissal; best to disrupt everyone else as little as possible. She ran down to the cells alongside the messenger, dragging her hair back from her face as she did so. “Who held the keys?” she repeated.

“Captain Elros.”

“Where is he?”

When she got to the cells, they were indeed closed and locked, but empty.

“The doors into the palace have been guarded, Captain,” someone said as she looked around for Elros.

“Then they must have gone…” She dashed down into the cellars. As she entered, Elros was stumbling to his feet, blinking stupidly. Galion’s head was still on the table. Tauriel ran past both of them, those of the guard who had been alert on her heels.

She arrived in the deepest cellar just in time to see the trapdoor slamming closed.

For a moment she stared at it in disbelief, then she turned to Elros, who was just making his way past the other guards.

“Go and tell the king what has happened, Elros,” she ordered. “I leave it to him to ask how! Lothlin” - she addressed another elf, who saluted - “Get me some armour and a bow.” She looked around as Lothlin hurried away. “The rest of you, follow me to the water gate as soon as I’m armed. We will stop them there.”

***

The path to the gate was a well-trodden one even in these days; the elves of Mirkwood still maintained a watch there, and Tauriel hoped that they would find their escaped prisoners already recaptured. Still, she knew that the guard would be outnumbered and was running as fast as she could through the darkness of the forest, her way lit only by occasional lanterns. It would not be long until the sun rose, but for now it was only just past dawn.

She was surprised to hear battle already joined as they approached the gate, but raised a hand to gesture a group of those accompanying her into the trees and another towards the river. Whatever was going on, they couldn’t flank the battle without crossing the river, but they could do their best. She herself kept running down the road with the few that remained.

When they burst out of the trees into the small clearing around the gate, she gasped; the dim light of the rising sun showed the cluster of barrels trapped by the closed gate, the dwarves in them… and the orcs attacking both the dwarves in the barrels and the guards on the gate.

Instinctively, she reached for her bow, nocking an arrow as fast as she could. The elves with her followed her lead and the first volley of arrows hit the orcs, drawing their attention to the arrival of reinforcements, lifting the pressure on the two gate guards still alive.

As she loosed her second arrow, Tauriel weighed options. There was no time to even hope that the three lying motionless on the ground around the gate were alive. A third volley of arrows was also out of the question; they were shooting at a melee now that the stragglers were picked off and they risked hitting one of their own people in the poor light. She also wanted the dwarves alive. So she dropped her bow, drew her knives, and dashed down the slope.

A couple of orcish arrows hit the ground around her, but she didn’t pause, aiming for those on the gate. Her own people would watch her back. A couple of orcs came running to meet her. She cut one down, and the second fell with an arrow in its throat.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kili scrambling onto the wall above the gate. The other elves were ignoring him, still fighting for their lives, although Tauriel’s onslaught had relieved some of the pressure on them. Others had caught up with her now. Blood sprayed across her face as an elf beside her slit an orc’s throat. She stabbed another in the belly and twisted as it swept its sword towards her head. The dwarves would have to wait.

***

Kili scrambled along the top of the gate on hands and knees, keeping as low as he could. He felt bile rise in his throat as his hand landed in a pool of blood and he looked along it to the face of a dead elf. The blank, lifeless eyes stared into his and he scrambled back, stumbling to his feet, for a moment forgetting where he was.

He was brought back to reality by a sickening blow to the leg that made his knees buckle. At first it didn’t hurt, but then he looked down and saw the arrow shaft standing in his thigh. Then pain tore up his leg like claws.

“Kili!” This time it was the sound of Fili’s voice that brought him back. He’d come up here for a reason. Ignoring Fili shouting at him to get down, ignoring Bilbo’s shrill protest that he could get up there if only someone gave him a boost, he dragged himself to his feet and scrambled towards the lever that would open the gate. He fell against it, dragged it down, and in the same movement rolled back over the edge of the gate. The last thing he knew was someone shoving him safely into a barrel.

***

As the dwarves were swept through the gate, the orcs broke and ran after them. Tauriel leaned on the parapet for a moment, looking after them, panting for breath.

“First patrol, see to the wounded,” she said. “The rest of you -”

She looked up as there was a shout from the other side of the river. Between the trees, she spotted Legolas’ fair hair gleaming in the growing light as he led another group of elves after the orcs.

“The rest of you,” she said, spinning to face them, “Come with me - we’ll make them pay for this attack! To the prince!”

There was a ragged cheer and Tauriel broke into a run down the riverbank. Her bow had been left behind, but she had enough knowledge of the ground to start catching up with the orcs. A couple of orcs turned at bay; she drove her knife into one as the other fell, shot by one of her own people.

She could see Legolas on the other side now, keeping pace with the dwarves as they fought their own running battle against the orcs. As she watched, he stabbed an orc and his knife jammed. Another orc ran up behind him as he struggled to pull the knife free. Gasping, Tauriel snatched up an orcish bow and handful of arrows and took aim. The orc fell mid-stroke.

Legolas looked up and nodded thanks as he finally pulled the knife free, then started running again, taking a flying leap across the river to land in the branches of an overhanging tree.

Tauriel scowled as she ran to catch up with him, shooting with her borrowed bow as he continued to scramble through the branches above her, moving and twisting as if blown by the wind. They had long since left their patrols behind, but she couldn’t stop, not until he did.

She loosed the last arrow at an orc on a fallen tree below him, missing in her haste. Fortunately, the orc was killed by one of the dwarves being swept past it. She mentally thanked the dwarf as she tossed aside the useless bow and kept running.

Still ahead of her, Legolas stopped in his tracks as he came to the edge of a ridge that had been cut by the river. One last orc stepped out of the trees and raised its bow, aiming at his back as he watched the dwarves being washed further into the depths of the forest.

Tauriel put on a burst of speed and ran straight into the orc’s back, bowling it over. It rolled and she rolled with it, finally pinning it and raising her dagger.

“Wait!” shouted Legolas, and she looked up. He was looking over his shoulder. “We need information. Take that one alive.”

She nodded. “Very well.”


	4. Morgul Poison

Legolas stood beside his father, looking down at the captured orc as it knelt between two guards, held firmly with a knife to its throat.

“Such is the nature of evil,” said Thranduil, tilting his head slightly closer to Legolas. “In time all foul things come forth.”

The orc spat at Thranduil’s feet. “You know nothing.”

“You were tracking a party of thirteen dwarves,” said Legolas, at a nod from Thranduil. “Why?” It was a guess, but they had chased the dwarves when they escaped downriver.

“Not thirteen, not any more.” The orc grinned.

Legolas debated a moment whether to ask what that meant, but guessed that one of the dwarves had been killed in the battle at the gate. “No matter the exact number, you were tracking them. Why? What have they to do with you?”

The orc laughed in its throat. “Oakenshield will never be king.”

“What interest have you in Oakenshield?”

Another laugh. Legolas nodded to one of the guards, who drew her dagger and pressed it to the orc’s throat. “Answer the question, filth,” she spat.

“You know nothing,” said the orc, grinning a little. “Your world will burn. Do you want to know what happened to that dwarf whelp?”

“I do not care about one dead dwarf,” said Thranduil, but the orc spoke over him.

“We stuck him with a morgul shaft. The poison’s in his blood. He’ll be choking on it soon.” The orc laughed again as Legolas turned to look at Thranduil in alarm.

Thranduil was impassive; he just glanced at Legolas out of the corner of his eye. Legolas swallowed, schooled his own expression into a mask, and looked back at the orc.

“Such as you do not have access to morgul poison,” he said.

“My master serves the One. Do you understand, elfling?” The orc grinned. “You, and Oakenshield, and the other fools that defy him, you will burn. The flames of war are upon you.”

“Kill it,” snapped Thranduil.

The guard cut the orc’s throat and they stepped back. For a long moment it lay twitching as the elves stood in silence. To Legolas’ eye, Thranduil looked unusually pale and there was a muscle twitching in his temple.

“Get rid of it,” Thranduil told the guards. “Legolas, come with me.”

The guards saluted as Thranduil turned and went back to his private quarters. Legolas followed.

Once they were alone, Legolas said, “Why did you do that? There was more the orc could tell us.”

“There was nothing more it could tell me.” Thranduil’s hands were shaking a little as he poured a cup of wine. “I suspect Tauriel was right after all: there is something darker and more dangerous than orcs in the south of Mirkwood and we must act before spring.”

“What are we to do?” asked Legolas. “What do you suspect?”

“That the enemy I fought long ago at the Last Alliance has returned.” Thranduil took a long sip of wine and sighed. “As to what to do… The safety of our people must be our first priority. Go and summon Tauriel back and keep a close watch on our borders. Nothing moves but I hear of it.” He sighed again, taking another sip of wine.

“Father?”

“If our enemy - or that fool Thorin Oakenshield - should unleash the dragon, it will destroy all before it. Ensure our people are ready to retreat back into the caves. Those who can should remain inside until we know what we face.”

Legolas nodded. “Very well.”

***  


Tauriel had reached the border and it was clear that the orcs had crossed it without any hesitation or sign of turning aside; they were travelling in a near-straight line east. Tauriel told her patrol to rest and went to stand on the riverbank, looking out towards the lake and remembering Thranduil’s order that she was not to cross the border. On the other hand, he had also ordered her to find out what the orcs were doing. Some information would surely have come from the captured orc, but she still chafed to go after these invaders and see more for herself.

Apart from anything else, Laketown potentially lay in their path. The thought of the innocent people there who might fall victim to an orc attack made it especially hard to stand on the border, and she gritted her teeth, her stomach turning at the thought of simply turning back and going home.

“Prince Legolas!” called a voice, and Tauriel turned to see Legolas approaching, accompanied by a small group of warriors. Her own patrol were getting up to stand at attention, but Legolas waved at them to stay where they were.

“I want a word with Captain Tauriel,” he said.

Tauriel saluted. “At your command, Prince Legolas.”

They walked a little way along the river together, and as soon as they were out of hearing, Tauriel said, “I’m glad you came; I would appreciate your advice.”

Legolas nodded. “What I have to say probably won’t be to your liking: my father is recalling you and your patrol and sealing the borders. All who can are to retreat into the caves and remain there until given further orders.”

“What?” Tauriel stopped dead, reaching out to lay a hand on Legolas’ arm. “He means to let this raid go unpunished? Legolas, if we retreat now -”

“I said you would not like it,” said Legolas with a ghost of a smile.

“We cannot just hide behind our walls and live our lives away from the light, never to see the stars again.”

Legolas sighed, shaking his head a little. “The orc said some things that suggest you were right about Dol Guldur. Apparently one of the dwarves was struck with a morgul shaft” - Tauriel shuddered as she heard the words and did her best to put aside the memories they conjured - “and my father recognised a title it used. He says that the Enemy may have returned. We cannot fight such a foe.”

Tauriel looked away, a bitter taste in her throat. “Does he not even want to know what these orcs were doing, crossing our border, killing our people…”

“It appears they have some grudge against the dwarves’ leader. But…” Legolas frowned and Tauriel folded her arms, waiting for him to continue. “He does want to know more of what we face,” he said slowly.

“I could lead a small patrol to follow their tracks. Where they go next could tell us much. What’s more, we should warn Laketown.”

Legolas nodded, though he was still frowning thoughtfully. After a moment, he added quietly, “And there’s no other reason to pursue them?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“The dwarf struck down by morgul poison.”

Tauriel looked down, the memories and the fellow-feeling for that dwarf and his kin returning tenfold. To her shame, she felt tears pricking in her eyes. “It’s true that… had someone been there with athelas, my parents might have survived,” she said softly. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “But you are mistaken if you think my judgement is clouded by grief.”

Legolas put a hand on her shoulder. “You know I trust your judgement, Tauriel, and so does my father. And… you are right that we could learn something from further investigation.” He paused for a long moment, then patted her shoulder again and said, “Very well.”

Tauriel looked up. “You agree that I should follow them?”

Legolas was still frowning a little, but he nodded. “I do, and I give you permission. You cannot take a full patrol, though; we may need all the blades we have. Follow the tracks and find information; do not engage if you can avoid it.”

Tauriel smiled. “I understand. I will take Galadhwen.”

“I hope you don’t need a healer,” said Legolas seriously. “But…” He looked back across the river. “I suppose the dwarf may yet be alive.”

Tauriel nodded. “What’s more, if I do need a healer, that need will be urgent.”

Legolas nodded. “Agreed.”

***  


Tauriel handed over command of her patrol to Legolas and set off at once with Galadhwen, crossing the river at the next ford and striking off along the bank, towards Laketown.

“Why do you suppose the orcs were after the dwarves, Captain?” Galadhwen asked softly as they paused to inspect the welter of tracks their enemies had left on the bank. It still looked like a large band and Tauriel couldn’t help a moment’s anxiety as she looked along its path.

“I don’t know,” she said, “except that Prince Legolas told me they had a grudge against the leader. When we catch up to them, we will find out.”

Galadhwen nodded, then they pulled their masks back up and ran on.

The orcs had left a clear trail as they went around the lake, and even as daylight faded the two elves were able to follow them. Tauriel couldn’t help a smile as they paused for a moment’s rest. It was good to see the open stars.

“They’re still heading directly for Laketown,” she said, bringing her concentration back to the present.

“Do you think we should do likewise?” asked Galadhwen.

Tauriel frowned. “It’s a risk; we don’t want to risk them changing course without us realising it. The trail is fairly easy to follow in any case.” She sighed and accepted the water bottle that Galadhwen handed her, then they set off again.

Shortly before they reached Laketown the next day, the tracks faded into the wilderness. Searching as best they could, Tauriel and Galadhwen found occasional hints that something had passed, but nothing was clear.

“The ground’s too hard, Captain, I’m sorry,” said Galadhwen, looking up from an inspection of a few crushed blades of grass.

“My luck has been no better,” said Tauriel, jumping down from the rock she’d climbed for a better vantage. “And there’s nothing visible that would make any more likely a hiding place than any other. I suspect they’re trying to shelter from the sun.”

“Shall we wait for them to show themselves again?”

Tauriel nodded, but looked over towards the town, which was only a mile or two away. “We should also warn Laketown of their presence, and while there we can see if anything has been seen of the dwarves. After all, there’s been no sign that they left the river, so this must have been their aim. The Master of Laketown may have word of them, even if we cannot recapture them ourselves. Come; we may even be able to return here before sunset.”

Galadhwen nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

***  


Upon their arrival at the gates of Laketown, they were held up while someone sent to the Master to ask if it was convenient for him to speak to the Captain of the Mirkwood Rangers and her companion. Tauriel had been to Laketown once or twice, generally as a member of Thranduil’s or Legolas’ entourage, and she knew that shows of authority and arrogance were really the only way to get to the Master; that and appealing to his greed.

Sure enough, the messenger who came back was accompanied by the Master’s secretary, Alfrid, who bowed low enough that Tauriel could almost call it grovelling.

“We’re honoured by your visit, Lady Captain,” he said with a smile. “Please come this way.”

“It’s just ‘Captain’, thank you, Alfrid,” said Tauriel. She avoided his attempt to shake her hand. “I wish to see the Master urgently.”

“Of course, Captain.” He turned to lead the way over to a small barge. Tauriel beckoned to Galadhwen and climbed into the barge after him.

When they arrived at the small courtyard in front of the Master’s house, he come out to meet them, beaming effusively, though Tauriel could see a twitch at the corner of his eye.

“Captain Tauriel!” he exclaimed. “How wonderful. I assume you’ve come with a message from King Thranduil; I trust he’s well?”

“My king is very well, thank you,” said Tauriel. “I am here on two particular matters, and I cannot stay long.”

“Well, do come in.” He gestured to the house and Tauriel followed him into a large, if rather stuffy, receiving chamber where he sat down on a large padded seat on a raised platform. “Do you mind if I put my feet up? My gout troubles me terribly at this time of year.”

“Of course,” said Tauriel, hoping it wasn’t clear that she didn’t know what gout was. She noticed that he didn’t offer either her or Galadhwen chairs, but didn’t comment; she already felt like he was looking down at her and drew herself up as much as she could.

“Now, what did you wish to speak to me about? Of course, I’m always happy to entertain emissaries of King Thranduil. Is it about the wine trade? We’ve had some excellent offers from merchants to the south -”

“No, it’s not about trade. The first matter is that my companion and I are tracking a group of orcs that attempted to attack the king’s palace. Their tracks disappear in the wilderness near here, and we wished to warn you and your people, as well as asking if you know anything of their possible whereabouts.”

For a moment the Master stared at her, eyes wide. “Orcs?” he echoed, his voice a little high. “That’s terrible!”

Alfrid was nodding. “Think of the disruptions to the trade caravans,” he said, looking at Tauriel as if it were her fault. “And with winter coming on.”

“I suggest you make your people aware of their presence,” said Tauriel. “Their lives may be at risk, especially those who have business on land.”

The Master was muttering something about profits and Tauriel took a deep breath and let it out again, closing her eyes for a moment. “The second matter,” she said, “concerns a group of dwarves.”

There was an awkward pause, then the Master licked his lips, shifted in his chair, and said, “Dwarves?”

“Yes. During the attack they escaped from the king’s custody and fled downstream.”

The Master thumped a fist on the arm of his chair. “That wretched bargeman Bard must have picked them up,” he said. “And then he foisted them on all of us! They claimed to be the returning King Under the Mountain and his entourage; of course, if I’d known that they were escapees from King Thranduil’s dungeons, I would never have let them go.”

“So they have been here? When did they leave?”

“This morning, taking supplies with them, the thieves. And to think I paid their room and board myself! I really cannot apologise enough, Captain.”

Tauriel sighed. “I assume they left for Erebor.”

“Yes. Which does surprise me, I’ll admit. I have Bard in custody, though, if you wish to speak to him, and of course if you wish to take him back to Mirkwood for trial, that would be perfectly acceptable.”

If the orcs had been chasing the dwarves, this Bard might know something of how close they had come, and he would also have seen the wounded dwarf; Tauriel was still troubled by the idea of orcs carrying Morgul poison once more.

“I will speak to him,” she said.


	5. Laketown

There had been some discussion about whether Tauriel and Galadhwen should be shown where Bard was being held or whether he should be brought to them, but in the end the Master put a small room in his own mansion at their disposal and they waited there while Bard was fetched.

Tauriel eyed the large window carefully, judging the light level. It was heading towards evening and she thought restlessly of the orcs still out there. They could be setting off again at any moment, and she couldn’t help wondering how seriously the Master had actually taken their warning.

She was distracted from her worry, though, as a couple of the Master’s men arrived, leading another man between them. He eyed Tauriel and Galadhwen suspiciously even as he drew himself up, raising his head proudly.

“You’re Bard?” Tauriel asked.

“I am,” he said.

“I’m Captain Tauriel of Mirkwood. I’m looking for a group of dwarves that passed this way. I understand you were responsible for bringing them into the city.”

Bard looked measuringly at her, then nodded. “I was.”  


“What can you tell me about them?”  


She had expected a flat refusal, but he hesitated for a moment, glancing sidelong at the two guards. One of them nudged him a touch roughly.  


“Answer the Captain, Bard,” he said.  


“What will you do with them if you capture them?” asked Bard slowly.  


Tauriel blinked. “Return them to Greenwood as prisoners,” she replied firmly, trying to cover up with her tone the fact that the two of them alone would never be able to accomplish such a thing. Bard frowned to himself and Tauriel asked,  


“Do you know where they are?”  


Again, Bard hesitated. “Can I have your word that if you find them you won’t do them or anyone hiding them any harm?”  


“You’re hardly in a position to make bargains,” the other guard laughed.  


Tauriel didn’t laugh. “You have my word.”  


Bard shook his head, still frowning. After a moment, though, he swore and said, “Four of them were left behind and came to me; one of them is wounded and they needed help.”  


Tauriel barely swallowed a gasp. Kili was alive after all? She didn’t ask for details, though; just nodded and glanced at Galadhwen, who nodded once in response.  


“Why do you tell us this?” asked Tauriel, turning back to Bard.  


Bard scowled. “Little though I want to betray their trust… we couldn’t find anything to cure his illness. Handing him over to you might save his life.”  


Tauriel nodded. “Where is your house?”  


Bard winced a little, but one of the guards broke in at that point: “If you follow the main canal for half a mile and then turn east, you’ll find it down the third road on your left.”  


Tauriel nodded. “Thank you. Bard, is there anything else you can tell me about the others?”  


He shrugged. “Just that they left in the direction of the Mountain only this morning.”  


Tauriel had little intention of walking into a dragon’s lair, at least until she had all the information she’d come here for.  


“Well, if that’s all you wanted him for…” said one of the guards, and Tauriel nodded.  


As they turned to go, Bard looked over his shoulder and said, “Remember your word, Captain.”  


“I will,” promised Tauriel.

***

She waited until she and Galadhwen were out of the house, in the open square outside, before she spoke again.  


“Night is already falling,” she said. “We should continue our pursuit of the orcs.”  


“But if the orc we captured was telling the truth, time is running fast for that dwarf.”  


Tauriel nodded thoughtfully, looking out towards the north as she considered what it would be best to do next. “I’d be happier if I knew where they had stopped for the day. It might take hours for us to find Bard’s house - I have no faith in those directions - and still longer for you to treat the wound. I trust you have athelas with you?”  


“Of course.”  


“That will save us some time.” Tauriel also knew that she was wasting time standing here in thought. For a moment longer she weighed the options. The best thing to do would be to go after the orcs. That was where her duty and her orders lay. But at the same time… she had only been a child, but she still remembered the sight of her parents’ bodies and that first taste of grief. She remembered Kili’s words of his mother and his oath to her that he would come home safely.  


“We’ll give two hours to searching for the dwarves and treating his wounds,” she said, turning back towards the canal. “Then we go after the orcs.”  


“Yes, Captain,” said Galadhwen, falling in step beside her.

***

As Tauriel had feared, the streets of the city were a warren that probably made perfect sense to those who lived there, but to her and Galadhwen were worse than the tangled paths of what had been Greenwood. The people they met didn’t seem inclined to help either; they struck Tauriel as nervous and suspicious, and she frequently noticed mothers hurrying their children away from the two elves and people who had been watching them ducking into side streets as soon as they realised they had been noticed.  


“It’s going to take most of our time to find a way out of here again,” she groaned at last, looking down another street that looked much the same as the others: the same wooden walkway down one side of the same canal.  


Galadhwen didn’t reply, just hitched up her bag on her shoulders and looked around at the houses towering over them. Tauriel followed her gaze, trying to judge the time by the position of the moon, which was just beginning to peek over the rooftops.  


They both saw it at the same time: a hunched figure scurrying along the ridge of the roof, heading in the same direction as them. The two elves glanced at one another.  


“Orc,” whispered Tauriel, darting over to the shadows on the other side of the road and starting to run down the road herself.  


Galadhwen kept pace with her. After a few paces she whispered, “It’s gone.”  


“Direction?”  


“Other side.”  


Tauriel nodded and looked around for a way for them to get onto the roofs themselves. A staircase onto a catwalk along the front of several houses beckoned and she darted up it, beckoning to Galadhwen to follow. With the same gesture, she pointed to a ladder up onto a roof and Galadhwen started climbing. Tauriel continued along the catwalk, still looking around for more orcs and keeping to the shadows.  


She startled as the night air was split by a girl’s loud scream. After a second, Tauriel paused to guess its direction: on the other side of the row of houses opposite where she stood. There was a bridge to the catwalk opposite. With a single whistle to Galadhwen, she ran towards it.

***

Fili had been sitting by Kili’s bed, holding one of his brother’s hands in both of his and half listening to Oin muttering over the herbs Bard had left and giving orders to Bofur. He heard the door open and glanced round, expecting to see Bard finally arriving back, but it was Sigrid going out. He sighed and looked back at Kili, gently running a hand over his brother’s clammy brow, and tried to keep up hope.  


A loud scream made him startle out of his chair, spinning round and reaching for his sword. His hand closed on nothing and he hissed in anger.  
At the same moment, Sigrid scrambled back through the door, still screaming, and slammed it behind her. Bain ran to help her hold it. Tilda also shrieked, clutching a doll close to her chest.  


An axe blade smashed through the door inches from Sigrid’s head. She stared at it for a moment, frozen, then Fili yelled, “Get back! Sigrid, Bain, get back!”  
Sigrid obeyed, running to Tilda. Bofur took her place and Fili was just running to join him when the door burst open under another axe blow and an orc burst in.  


Fili didn’t have a weapon and had taken off the ill-fitting armour that the Master had given him, but he threw himself at the orc, shouldering it in the chest and sending it staggering back.  


He ducked a sword swipe that almost took his head off, ignoring Kili yelling his name.  


“Oin, get them out!” he shouted, staggering back. He snatched up a chair and raised it as a shield as the orc cut at him again. A crash made him look round and he saw another orc standing under a hole in the roof. It was between them and the staircase down to the dock under the house. Once again, time seemed to slow.  


Then, all at once, Sigrid grabbed Tilda and bundled her under the table. Bain seized his father’s longbow from where it leaned against the wall. Bofur snatched up a knife Oin had been using to prepare herbs.  


And the orc standing over Fili dropped with an arrow between its shoulder blades.  


Fili gasped, stumbling back. Even if that one was dead, there was the other to consider, and he didn’t know who had loosed that arrow.  


Even as he was picking up a heavy piece of the broken door, that question was answered as a tall, silver-haired figure stepped around the fallen Orc. He just had time to realise she was an elf. There was no time to wonder what she was doing, though, as the Orc that had dropped through the ceiling lunged forward with a yell, aiming for Bofur. Bofur raised the knife and Fili ran forward to stand beside him. He would have to trust the elf to watch his back.

***

The door was a bottleneck and Tauriel didn’t like her odds whichever way she faced. She would have to trust the dwarves.  


“There are more of them coming,” she snapped. “You” - she pointed to Fili - “keep an eye on that hole. My companion is watching the outside. You -” She didn’t have time to give orders to the dwarf who stood with Fili; she caught the sound of a heavy foot on the platform outside and she spun, parrying the blow that the Orc aimed at her shoulder. Though she’d saved her life, the force of it still sent her stumbling back and the Orc forced its way past her, another close behind. She managed to catch herself on the edge of the table and not fall, but she’d failed to hold the door.  


Fili was shouting orders in dwarvish and she hoped that he was getting the others out of the way; the middle of a fight was no place for children. There was no time to reflect on that, though; she had to parry another couple of quick blows and even so the second orc through the door got past her. She cut the throat of the one she was fighting and spun just in time to see the second one lunging at Fili’s back.  


“Fili!” she yelled, starting after it.  


Another voice had shouted at the same time. Kili half fell from a curtained-off bedroom, striking down at the back of the orc’s neck with a short knife. The orc twitched and fell inches from Fili. Kili collapsed to his knees beside it.  


Tauriel turned back to the door, her heart beating in her throat. She could make out several more orcs outside preparing to charge. With four people in the middle of the fight who needed protection and only Galadhwen as a trusted ally, the odds were poor. There was little to be done but fight, though.  


To her shock, just as she was making that decision, there was a shout in orcish from the doorway and the orcs turned and fled. Tauriel stared after them for a moment, then shouted, “Galadhwen, the roof?”  


“Clear!” called Galadhwen.  


Tauriel looked carefully outside and could make out the orcs running down the street outside. She scowled. She wanted information. “Come down,” she called to Galadhwen, looking back into the house. The children were still huddled under the table, the older girl with her arms around her siblings, eyeing Tauriel with a mixture of terror and admiration. The dwarves, meanwhile, were clustered around Kili. He looked like he’d lost consciousness.  


Galadhwen dropped down beside Tauriel and followed her gaze to Kili.  


“Is there anything you can do?” asked Fili, looking up from where he was cradling Kili’s head on his knees.  


Tauriel knew time was running and she might need Galadhwen’s help, but she shook her head to herself. “Stay and help them,” she said to Galadhwen. “I’ll follow the orcs. Follow me if I’m not back in an hour.”  


Galadhwen nodded and Tauriel didn’t wait for any further response; she darted down the steps to the street and ran after the orcs.  



	6. Saving and Slaying

As soon as Tauriel had left, Galadhwen turned to look around the room. The eldest of the human children was standing in front of her younger siblings, twisting her fingers in the shawl around her shoulders. Meanwhile, the dwarves were still clustered around the wounded dwarf.

“Get him onto the table,” she said, pointing. She turned to the girl and said, “What’s your name?”

“Sigrid, ma’am.”

“Sigrid, get the table cleared and boil some water. Do you have a clean, sharp knife?”

“I…” Sigrid looked round quickly, then turned to the other children and began passing orders on to them. The dwarves had managed to manhandle Kili onto the table and Fili was smoothing his hair and eyeing Galadhwen with obvious suspicion.

“You can help him?” he asked carefully.

“Yes.” She stepped over to the table. “What are your names?”

Fili hesitated a moment, but then said, “Fili son of Vili, my brother Kili” - he gestured to the wounded dwarf - “Oin son of Groin” - that was the older dwarf - “And Bofur son of Bavor.”

Galadhwen nodded. “Do any of you have any healing training?”

Oin hesitated a moment, then said, “I do, so don’t you try anything funny.”

Galadhwen fought the urge to snort at that and went to remove the bandage from around Kili’s leg. “What have you done?”

“Cleaned it up.”

“Ma'am?” Sigrid appeared at Galadhwen’s shoulder, holding a small knife. Galadhwen took it and tested the edge.

“Is the arrowhead still in there?”

Again, Oin hesitated. That told Galadhwen all she needed to know. She licked her lips nervously; it had been easily long enough for the damage to be serious.

“Get the bandage off,” she said as Sigrid stepped up beside her with a small pot of hot water. “Thank you, Sigrid.” She took some dried Athelas from her bag and handed it to the girl. “Chop this up and soak it in some more warm water.”  
Oin had removed the bandage and Galadhwen picked up the knife again. “Hold him down,” she said to the other dwarves. Then she carefully pulled apart the blackened edges of the wound, searching with her fingers for the snapped-off arrowhead. Kili screamed and tried to struggle, but the dwarves held him down and the boy also hurried over, white as a sheet, and grabbed one of his arms. Galadhwen could feel the stub of the arrow shaft and she quickly cut the wound a little larger, knowing that orc arrows were often barbed. Finally, she was able to grab it in her fingertips and pulled it out, putting it on the table with a sigh of relief.

“Sigrid, the herbs?” she asked.

“H-here.” Sigrid held up another pot and Galadhwen couldn’t help a smile at the sweet, refreshing smell of the steeped athelas.

“Fish out the leaves and put them into the wound.”

Sigrid swallowed hard, but before she could reply Oin said curtly, “I can do that.”

Galadhwen nodded and Sigrid, with a sigh of relief, started fishing shredded leaves out of the pot and putting them in Oin’s outstretched hand.

When he packed them into the wound, Kili let out another choking cry. Out of the corner of her eye, Galadhwen saw Fili stroke his hair and mutter something into his ear.

“Done,” said Oin.

Galadhwen nodded and slowly let go of the sides of the wound, allowing it to close again. “One of you, wash around the wound. I need to clean my hands and get rid of this.” she picked up the arrowhead.

“Poison, then?” asked Oin.

Galadhwen nodded.

***  


Fili’s attention was torn between the elf and Kili, who had gone worryingly still. He was still breathing, though, in gulping, heaving gasps.

“Kili?” Fili asked softly.

Kili’s eyes fluttered open and he pulled against Bofur’s grip on his arm. Bofur glanced at Fili and let go so that Fili could take Kili’s hand and squeeze it gently.

“How do you feel?” he asked, in Khuzdul.

“I…” Kili’s words withered in a groan as Oin and Sigrid began carefully cleaning the edges of the wound. Sigrid looked as sickened and scared as Fili felt. He hoped that the elf really could be trusted. The herbs she had used smelled wholesome enough and Oin seemed to trust them, but he couldn’t help the worry; she was still an enemy, no matter how helpful she seemed to be at the moment.

Tilda came running up with some rags and Sigrid took one and wrapped it around Kili’s leg. Fili sighed in relief.

Kili sighed, the breath coming out as a chuckle. “Oh, that feels better.”

“It does?” asked Fili, also with a sigh.

“The feeling’s coming back. My leg was so cold…”

Fili swallowed hard and stroked Kili’s hair again, though he stopped at once as Bain glanced at him.

Perhaps the road for them led back to Mirkwood, but it seemed that Kili had been saved. Fili could only be grateful for that.

***  


As soon as Tauriel was out of the house, she scrambled up onto the roof, keeping below the ridge line so that her silhouette wouldn’t be visible. She pulled her hood close around her head so her silver hair wouldn’t catch the light and hurried along on all fours.

It wasn’t long before she heard a shout in orcish in the street below. She hissed and dropped down from the roof onto the catwalk, looking over the edge to see the orcs below.

She was used to hunting in poor light and saw a gleam of moonlight on armour as a couple of orcs ran into a side street. She jumped down and ran after them, quickly making the decision that she would leave them unharmed for now; she wanted to know where they were going.

  
She followed them down a warren of small alleys and side streets until she was thoroughly disoriented and starting to wonder if the orcs were lost.

But just as she was starting to consider climbing up to a roof and risking losing the trail in exchange for figuring out where she was, there was a shout from up ahead. One of the orcs replied and Tauriel slipped into the shadows at the side of the road, creeping along with her back to the wall. It seemed they’d arrived where they were going.

They had come to a dock beside one of the larger canals and Tauriel’s eyes widened as she saw a large orc standing on the other side of the dock. The two she’d been following approached him slowly, looking at one another.

He said something in curt orcish and Tauriel frowned, hoping the whole conversation wouldn’t be in orcish. One of the orcs replied and the lead orc let out an enraged roar, making those around him cower. Then he started towards one of the roads leading out of the city. Finally, Tauriel looked around for a way up to a rooftop. A ladder onto another catwalk beckoned and she darted across the street to reach it.

One of the orcs looked round, smelling the air, then shouted a single word. Tauriel swore; she recognised it as the word she always assumed meant “elf”.  
She could hear them running across the dock. There were innocent people in the houses. She couldn’t take the fight to their doors. Without further thought she spun, drawing her knife, and ran out to meet the orcs.

At once, she knew the odds were against her. Three orcs plus the large one. She parried the blow one aimed at her head and just managed to twist out of the way of a thrust from another.

She could hear the lead orc shouting orders and wished that she had another warrior with her, but there was no use wishing and the thought fled as she spotted an opening under an orc’s arm and drove her knife home. She just managed to spin round him in time for a blow aimed at her back to land in his chest.

She could hear shouting and screaming around the dock now; several people had come out to see what the noise was.

“Get inside!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Back inside!”

The distraction had been too long; she barely dodged as an orcish blade skimmed down her arm, opening her sleeve and the skin beneath. She swore, stumbling back and flexing her arm. It was bleeding freely, but the wound didn’t seem deep.

Two left plus the large one. She dived towards the one that had slashed at her, ducking low under his blade and cutting at his legs. He went down on one knee with a curse. The other grabbed her hood and a handful of the hair underneath and jerked her back, almost pulling her over. She cried out and stabbed over her head, eliciting a yell as he let go of her.

Again, she lunged for the one on his knees, stabbing him in the neck as he started to stumble up.

One plus the large one. She chanced a quick look around. The large one was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t hear any sign of disturbance from the surrounding houses, so hopefully that meant he wasn’t attacking the townsfolk. It seemed they had been targeting Bard’s house.

The final orc was hesitating on the other side of the dock, eyeing her with a scowl, shifting on the balls of his feet. Tauriel let out a huff of breath, twirled her knife in her hand and ran at him. At that, he broke and fled.

There was no time for triumph; he might take her to his leader and she kept chasing him as he wove among the streets, climbing up stairs and scrambling over rooftops. She barely even had time to take a look around and judge where she was but apparently the orc had some idea; as best she could make out from occasional glimpses of the moon, he was heading for the shore.

They burst out onto the causeway that led to the shore and Tauriel dodged back into the shadows as the orc ran on. She looked around quickly, taking in the dead gate guards and the larger orc running down the causeway with the smaller one in hot pursuit.

Tauriel hissed through her teeth, unslinging her bow from her back. She made the decision even as she strung it: no prisoners. She and Galadhwen wouldn’t be able to take them back. She drew an arrow back to her ear and loosed in one quick motion, felling the smaller orc in his tracks. The larger one didn’t look round at his companion’s death-cry.

He was almost at the end of her range and she paused, shaking her hood all the way back from her head and aiming more carefully before she loosed. She swore as the arrow skipped short and broke into a run herself, trying to shorten the distance. Their speed was almost evenly matched, but when he was almost at the end of the causeway he turned at bay, yelling something she assumed was a challenge.

She slid to a halt and loosed another arrow. He turned enough for it to glance off his breastplate. Another try; this time she aimed for his face: a smaller target, but unarmoured. Again, he managed to step out of its path.

She drew another arrow back to her ear, gritting her teeth. He didn’t seem inclined to run. She could see his grin in the moonlight and guessed that he was enjoying taunting her. He didn’t seem to have a bow himself, so he would have to close in order to fight her.

But just as she was preparing to take another shot, the ground trembled and she heard a rumbling roar from the direction of the Lonely Mountain. She turned to look without thinking, only realising her mistake when she heard the heavy feet pounding towards her.

He smashed into her shoulder-first. Her arrow went wild and as she hit the ground her bow twisted and snapped. For a moment the breath was knocked out of her, but she managed to curl out of the way as a knife drove into the causeway where her head had just been. She fumbled for her own knife and drew it, slashing it across the orc’s face even as he pulled his blade out of the causeway, opening another cut down her arm.

He howled in pain and pulled back, grabbing at his eye. Tauriel scrambled up as there was another rumble and the ground trembled again. This time she didn’t look round, and to her surprise the orc looked past her, then turned and ran.

She watched him for a moment, gasping, rubbing at her bruised ribs, then she turned as the ground shook one more time. She could hear shouts and screams in the town, but she looked past it at the mountain on the horizon.

It was wreathed in flames.


End file.
